


For the First Time Again

by snarkymuch



Series: Broken!Verse [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 08:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12527220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch
Summary: Dean has to take Sam along with him when he gets a call that Charlie is in over her head. She learns about what has happened to Sam.





	For the First Time Again

Dean walked into the cabin, arms freighted with bags—he was not making two trips. Sam was close behind, munching a slice of pizza from the corner store in town. Ignoring Sam as he licked the grease from his fingers, he walked into the kitchen and dropped everything on the floor with a thud. He rubbed his forearms, restoring circulation. His phone buzzed in his pocket with a voicemail, someone had tried calling while he was coming inside, but he would be damned if he was going to pause to answer.

He reached in his pocket and flipped it open, listening to the message as he watched Sam rifle through the bags. It was Bobby and it wasn't good. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened. He groaned as he heard his friend explain how Charlie had headed out on a demon hunt and now she was hunkered down in a warehouse in Nebraska fearing for her life. He didn't have a choice. He was going to have to go after her, but that left a huge question, what was he going to do about Sam?

He flipped the phone closed and stuffed it back into his pocket. Sam had a package of fruit snacks out and was trying to tear them open with his teeth. He walked over to his brother and snatched them from him. "Don't you think you've had enough junk?"

Sam stood and grabbed them back, marching back off to the living room.

"Stomp your feet all you want." Dean sighed. "You'll still need my help to open them."

There was silence and then Dean heard the stomp of feet coming closer again.

"And you're back," Dean said, taking the package of fruit snacks from his brother, swiftly opening them and handing them back.

Sam huffed and then walked off.

"You're welcome!" Dean called after him.

What was Dean gonna do? No one else other than Bobby—or maybe Garth—could handle him, but he didn't have the time to wait to for them to get there. He needed to get to her as soon as possible. Charlie was in over her head and Dean knew it. She was like a little sister to him—and just like Sam—he felt a need to protect her. The only other option was to bring Sam along, but that came with a huge risk. If the demons found out about him, if Crowley learned of his condition, Sam would become a target, and it would be nearly impossible for Dean to protect him. As much as he hated the idea, he had to risk it. It was the only way.

Dean got them packed and into the car in only a few hours. He loaded the backseat with enough snacks to hopefully keep Sam satisfied for the whole trip plus some. His plan was—the best he could come up with—to get Sam settled into the motel and then head out on his own to find Charlie.

"Sam, that's enough," Dean said, swatting Sam's hand from reaching into the backseat again. "If you eat everything now, you'll have nothing for later."

Sam grumbled. "Where we goin'?"

"Don't worry about it. We won't be long. It'll be fun. You'll have the motel room to yourself."

He heard Sam shift in his seat. Dean glanced over at him. He looked anxious.

"What's wrong?"

Sam shrugged.

Dean shook his head, looking back to road. Sam had been moody for days. He hadn't been sleeping well, and in return, neither had Dean, so maybe they were both moody.

"Sam, what the problem? You'll have the TV to yourself. You can watch all the Buffy or pretty girls you want." Dean figured the prospect of alone time with some adult entertainment might cheer his brother up—worked for Dean.

Sam just sighed though. "Want you."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, half in frustration and half trying to stay awake. "Look, Sammy, someone we know is in trouble, and I need to help them."

"Who?"

He glanced between Sam and the road—not sure how to answer. He didn't know if Sam remembered Charlie. His memory wasn't the best. Dean really wanted to keep Sam's situation a secret.

"De?" Sam said, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

He drew a breath. "Yeah, her name is Charlie, Sam. We met her awhile back. She got herself in deep with some demons and I need to go help her out, but listen to me, Sam, this is important, you need to stay in the motel when we get there. I won't be long and then we will be able to head home. I'll be gone a few hours tops."

"I 'member her," Sam said, surprising Dean. "She was pretty. Can I see her?"

"No, Sam. End of discussion," Dean said, reaching in the backseat, grabbing a bag of junk food and tossing it to Sam. "I changed my mind. Munch on this instead of talking."

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

xXx

Nebraska didn't seem to impress Sam, or maybe it was his bad mood. He scowled as he entered the motel room.

"It's not that bad," Dean said, plonking down on one of the beds. "Beds are nice."

Sam dropped the bag he was carrying and sat at the end of the bed Dean was on. "Wanna go home."

Dean was exhausted from driving, he still had a hunt ahead, and Sam just wasn't going to stop. He worried if it was going to be a good idea to leave him alone after all.

"Sam, please. Just kick your feet up, relax, have a snack." Dean got up and grabbed the remote, tossing it to his brother. It thumped against Sam and fell to the floor. Dean sighed, walking over and picking it up, grabbing Sam's hand and placing the remote in it. "I need you to do this for me. I gotta go. Don't answer the door. Stay away from the windows. Just watch TV. I'll be back before you know it."

Sam hugged his arms around himself and hung his head. Dean tried to fight back the worry as he headed out the door.

xXx

It was night and the streets were damp from the misting rain. Dean reached in his jacket, wrapping his fingers around the demon knife as he walked around the old brick warehouse, looking for a way inside. He saw a pair of green steel doors at the end of a loading ramp—his way in. He gave the handle a jiggle, but they were locked. Cursing under his breath, he slipped around past the windows to the other side. He looked for an opening and then he saw it—a broken window. He put the knife back in the jacket and pulled himself in through the window, landing with a thud on concrete floor. He paused, listening for any sign of Charlie, or worse, demons.

Suddenly, something slammed into him from behind, wrapping arms around him. He grabbed his knife, ready to plunge it into whoever or whatever had just tackled him. He jumped back, stumbling to his feet when he saw his attacker.

"Charlie?"

The redheads smile grew impossibly wide. "I knew you'd come. I mean, I didn't need help. I so had this handled, just had a little hiccup. I guess I shouldn't have tried trapping and exorcising a demon on my own, but it seemed—"

"Whoa! Way too much talking, slow down. You tried to exorcise a demon on your own? Are you insane? This isn't the life we wanted for you."

She cocked her head to the side. "Come on. Don't be all big brother bear. I can handle it. I'm a big girl. Besides, your damsel in distress rescue services are no longer necessary. I took care of it on my own."

"Come again, you did what?" Dean's eyes went wide.

"He came for me again. I set another trap, said the little spell, and poof—no more demon."

Dean looked at her stunned. He scratched at his head with the knife. "So, you're all good then?"

"As perfect as ever," she chimed, grinning at Dean before her smile fell. "Where's Sam?"

Dean put the knife back in his jacket. "Not here. He's back at the motel doing some research for a case," he lied. "Actually, I should be getting back. It's late and we need to be heading out."

She studied him for a moment, looking dissatisfied before her smile returned. "Maybe I can help? I can out research Sam any day. So, what are you working on?"

"We're not having this discussion, Charlie. I'm already pissed you're out hunting demons. So, if you're good, I'm heading out."

Dean felt terrible for being so harsh, but he knew she wouldn't drop it otherwise. He just couldn't let it Sam's condition get out. He could feel Charlie's gaze burning a hole through him as he walked away. It hurt, but he had to do it.

xXx

Dean unlocked the motel room door and stepped inside. It was dark except for the light of the TV, flickering on the walls. Sam was asleep, propped up on pillows, blanket drawn to his chin. Dean sighed and went to shut the door behind, except it didn't close. A rush of adrenaline flooded through him. He wasn't used to be caught unware. He spun, reaching for his gun, stopping when he saw the flash of red hair through the gap in the door. He looked down and there was Charlie's foot, holding the door ajar.

"Hey, Dean," she said. "I don't know what crawled up your ass, but I wanna see Sam—now."

Dean sighed, putting his gun away.

"We need to talk outside," Dean said, looking at the wide-eyed redhead through the opening in the door.

Her foot pulled back, and for a moment, Dean thought about just slamming the door and hoping she would go away, but he knew he wasn't being fair, and he couldn't hurt Charlie like that. Sam and Charlie had always gotten along, and Dean knew he could trust her, but part of him was afraid of her reaction. It always made it feel so much more real when he watched someone meet Sam for the first time again—like when Bobby cried and when Garth fell apart for weeks. He braced himself and walked out the door.

"What's going on, Dean?"

Dean rubbed his tired eyes. Where do you start? He turned and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Dean, you're scaring me here. What's going on? Is it something to do with, Sam? It can't be that bad. What is he a vampire now or something?" she joked, but he could hear the concern in her voice.

"It happened a while back," Dean began. "Hunt gone wrong. It should have been a simple salt and burn, but fate, God, whatever, had other plans." He looked to Charlie, her face was tight with concern. "He got knocked back, hit his head on a gravestone. There was a bleed. I almost lost him, Charlie. I …"

He heard her suck in a breath. "But he's okay now though, right?"

"He pulled through, but he's not the same. He has brain damage."

"Oh my God." Her voice shook as she began to cry. "I had no idea … I should have called … I didn't think when I hadn't heard … "

Dean drew a shaky breath. "He's not gone. Some days, I can still see him. He looks at me, and I think somewhere behind it all, the old Sam is looking back, trapped inside his mind."

Charlie hiccupped, wiping the tears from her eyes. "We'll find a way to fix him, Dean. I'll help you. We'll make this work. We can't just …" Another sob broke from her.

Dean wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. "Unless we can get Cas back, I don't think there is."

She let go of Dean and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Then I guess that's what we'll have to do," she said determinedly. "Can I see him now?"

"Sure, but be warned, he's crashed from a sugar high. He might be bitchy."

She smiled. "I think I can handle it."


End file.
